Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 701 701 40 Prison_2

?Chapter 701: Chapter 40: Prison_2 Chapter 701: Chapter 40: Prison_2 Winters thought of Tang Juan and Moritz and said with embarrassment, “I am actually the dagger; it’s the one hidden behind that is the lethal sword.”

“Youth is truly a terrifying force,” Ronald said with some sentiment, then asked, “How is Lieutenant Colonel Zibeer from Vernge County doing?”

Winters remained silent.

Ronald let out a long sigh but comforted Winters instead, “Only the dead do not suffer the calamity of the sword and spear; these things are unavoidable, don’t dwell on them too much.”

The two chatted idly for a few more sentences, but there was nothing more to say.

Winters stood up, “Do you have any letters that you need me to take back?”

“Just in time, I have three.” Ronald carefully took out two letters and hastily finished writing the third one on the table, handing them all to Winters, “Please give them to my wife.”

Ronald handed over the letters without sealing or folding them.

Without looking at them, Winters carefully folded the letters and put them into his chest, “I will make sure they are delivered. When I return to Revodan, I will send you some leisure items like chessboards and books.”

“Nothing could be better,” Ronald said with a smile and a nod, and gently pointed next door, “Where the junior officers are staying, you should take a look there as well. Lieutenant Adam… is a bit off, and you’ll need to talk to him.”

“I’ll go right now,” Winters turned and walked towards the prison door.

Ronald was silent until one of Winters’ boots stepped outside the threshold, then softly spoke, “Thank you.”

What exactly was Ronald thanking him for? Was it for the care of his family? For the respect shown to him? For not saying anything about trying to persuade him to defect?

Winters didn’t know. He nodded in acknowledgement, left, and the door to the cell closed once more.

The situation with the junior officer POWs was different from Ronald’s. Ronald stayed in a single cell, while the junior officers lived in several large, adjoining cells.

Winters had actually captured some junior officers from Mont Blanc County and Vernge County as well, but he temporarily left those seniors in Revodan, not mixing them with the captives from Iron Peak County.

Apel and Asko, who had entertained suicidal thoughts, lived together, silently weaving baskets like skilled craftsmen.

Istvan and Adam shared a room. The former sat leaning against the wall, eyes gazing out at the blue sky through the window; the latter lay on a straw mat with his head covered, sound asleep. Both wore shackles on their hands and feet, a small memento from a failed escape attempt.

Most of the other officer POWs were the same—lackluster, leaning against something, casually fiddling with wheat straw and willow branches. Aside from Apel and Asko, no one took basket weaving seriously.

The “thud, thud, thud” of footsteps approached from the corridor, and the officer POWs instantly became alert, with even Adam abruptly sitting up straight. Only Apel continued to weave his baskets with focus.

They recognized the sound all too well; while the guards all wore straw sandals, wooden clogs, or leather-soled shoes, these were clearly the sounds of a pair of military boots studded with iron nails.

Then, Adam saw a particularly despicable junior standing before him.

Without waiting for Winters to speak, Adam violently rammed the prison door, shaking the wooden bars, “Winters! To kill or whatever else—make it quick! Don’t humiliate us!”

“Sergeant, good to see you!” Winters saluted, “By rank, you should salute me first, but you will always be my sergeant!”

“Cut the crap!” Adam violently shook the prison door, the shackles clanging loudly, “Let me out, and we’ll duel! Let’s settle life and death once and for all!”

Winters dismissed this with a smile and turned to salute the other seniors. No one responded to him, except for senior Apel who nodded his head slightly and continued weaving.

Silently, Winters placed a paper bag filled with raisins and tobacco at the door of each cell, without a word. He was just delivering things.

Adam glared at Winters with unrestrainable fury and bellowed, “With these small favors, you think you can buy us off?”

“In your dreams!” Adam kicked the paper bag forcefully.

The paper bag tore open, scattering its contents, and spun to hit the wooden bars on the opposite side of the corridor, flinging dark green raisins and tobacco leaves all over the ground.

Even though Winters’ patience had grown, he still felt provoked. He glared at Adam, “What are you doing?”

Adam was stunned at first, then grew even more furious, “You dare to ask me?!”

“The soldiers guarding you don’t have raisins to eat, nor do I,” Winters said expressionlessly, picking up a raisin, “If you don’t want it, give it back. Don’t waste things.”

Now in a rage bordering on madness, Adam started banging against the bars again, “[Venetian insult laden with venom and filth]!”

Winters blew the dust off the raisin, wiped it, and ate it. Ignoring Adam, who was like a mad bull, he turned and went to Apel’s cell.

Istvan, who shared a cell with Adam and also wore shackles, grabbed Adam and asked coldly, “Winters, what exactly do you want by keeping us locked up here?”

“Nothing,” Winters answered honestly, “I’m keeping you locked up because I can’t let you go. Officers are a valuable resource in war, and releasing you would be like giving aid to the enemy. I cannot release, and I do not wish to kill, so I have to keep you imprisoned.”

“What did you say?” Adam laughed manically, “You say you don’t wish to kill?”

Winters frowned slightly and retorted, “Sergeant, do you want me to kill you?”

“Come on then!” Adam roared like thunder, “Kill me! I won’t make a sound! Open the door! Duel!”

“Enough!” Apel, who had been silent for a long time, suddenly shouted.